


By Any Means

by pikachumaniac



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikachumaniac/pseuds/pikachumaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are all expected to do what is necessary to complete the mission, whatever the cost.</p><p>In which Q finds himself paying the cost on a mission gone wrong, and Bond tries to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I did what I had to do.”

“That’s not good enough, 003.”

“The mission was a success.”

“You went off-mission, endangering the quartermaster, and-”

“ _Endangering_? That bastard did more than just _endanger_ Q. Have you not seen what was done to him?”

“I am perfectly aware, 007. However, if you cannot keep calm, you will be escorted out. Your being here is a courtesy, not a right, and I will not tolerate any more interruptions.”

* * *

_There had been no warning. Q was by no means a light sleeper, but he was taken completely by surprise, one minute sleeping uneasily and the next straddled by Dupont. Forty-seven years of age, notorious playboy, and supplier of weapons to the criminal elite, recently finding himself in possession a chemical weapon that made him the number one target of every intelligence agency in the world. All of these facts flitted through Q’s head in an instant, but none of them explained what was happening at that exact moment._

_He started to shout before a hand was clamped over his mouth, cutting off the sound as the Frenchman leaned down close – too close, why was he this close, what was happening, how had he got in, where the_ fuck _was 003 – unwittingly answering the last of his questions with a chuckled, “Wright said you were prepared for me, no?”_

_Wright. 003’s cover identity. Prepared? It took a moment too long to realize what that meant, by which point Dupont was already pawing drunkenly at his clothes. Q still had no idea what was happening, but he had no interest in finding out, taking advantage of the man’s distraction to shove him off. Using his forward momentum, he started to scramble off the bed, but his wrists were quickly grabbed by the two burly bodyguards the Frenchman was never seen without. And then his arms were being pinned down as Dupont climbed back onto him, stilling his struggles with the weight of a heavy body. “Ah. It seems that Wright might have exaggerated your interest.”_

_Not that it had stopped him. Not even close. The Frenchman seemed delighted that he had been offered an unwilling body, taking care to let his hands linger as he stripped Q down, enjoying his exploration. Each movement was accompanied by words that made him feel sick as Dupont told him that he was beautiful, that he was perfect, that that that-_

_Q could only gasp and strain against the hands and body holding him down, although his struggles weakened as he fell into what was most likely shock. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a simple infiltration, posing as a potential buyer and tech specialist to make sure that the transaction went smoothly so that they could figure out where Dupont’s stockpiles were. But if it was really that simple, it wouldn’t have required the quartermaster and a double-o agent to handle the matter, would it? He tried to think of whether 003 had been acting differently, if there was any sign that this was even_ possible _, but it was too hard to think things through when his mind was retreating into itself, desperate to escape what was happening to his body. And then he couldn’t think of anything at all, except that_ this shouldn’t have been happening _, that this…._

_Slowly, distantly, he became aware that he was sobbing, the soft, quiet whimpers echoing through the room._

* * *

“You should not have put Q in that position.”

“Why not? He’s not a civilian. He knows what the job requires.”

“He is not an agent.”

“He’s the quartermaster.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? We are all expected to do our part to protect this country, by any means possible, whether that is to kill or fuck or die. How do you expect the agents he sends out to do just that to take him seriously if he isn’t willing to do the same?”

The sound of a chair being pushed back, toppling backwards onto the floor. “So what was this, your idea of a lesson? Some type of hazing?”

“007, _stand down._ ”

* * *

_Q couldn’t suppress the keening cry that escaped him when the door opened, his hands reaching desperately for the ruined blankets in an absurd effort to cover himself. He stopped when he saw 003, calm and collected and entirely dispassionate. They stared at each other, or more accurately, Q stared at 003 and 003 looked right through him, ignoring the bruises and scratches and undeniable evidence of-_

_“We need to get going,” 003 said curtly, walking over. And even though it wasn’t_ them _any longer, Q found himself scuttling backwards, the panic rising up in his gut and threatening to make him vomit. The look 003 gave him wasn’t cruel or mocking or even impatient, but matter-of-fact as yesterday’s clothing were tossed at him. “Get dressed. I got into Dupont’s networks while he was occupied, and radioed the information to MI6. They’re on their way to arrest the buyer, but it’s not going to take him long to realize what I’ve done so we have to get moving.”_

 _Occupied._ Occupied _. Q nearly let out a scream of rage-despair-misery but the look 003 fixed him with forced him to move. His attempts at dressing himself were clumsy, his fingers shaking too badly to button up his shirt so the agent tossed him an oversized jacket. But that was all the courtesy that could be spared, and he was not ready for the hand that took hold of his arm and shoved him towards the door. In his panic, he opened his mouth to scream but 003 was one step ahead of him, a hand clamping over his mouth (just like before,_ just like before _), and a hissed, “Quartermaster. We have to get moving_ now _.”_

_He went._

* * *

“What does it matter how things went down? We got the information we needed. Because of the actions I took, MI6 was able to apprehend the group before they could use a chemical weapon that would have killed thousands.”

“The problem isn’t with the results, 003. The problem is that you took matters into your own hands, and in the process severely compromised the quartermaster who you were responsible for protecting, not selling out to a dangerous terrorist to serve as a distraction.”

“It’s called improvising, sir. You know as well as I do that a mission doesn’t always go as planned. We do what we have to in order to make sure the job gets done, no matter the cost.”

“Bullshit. You were just impatient and looking for a goddamned shortcut, and you didn’t care what happened to Q as long as you got the credit for stopping the attack.”

“ _007_ -”

“No. _No._ Let him speak. Let him explain how he would have done this any differently. You only refuse to accept that I did what had to be done because it was _him_. If it was anyone else, you would already understand.”

* * *

_To 003’s credit, the man did not leave out any details in his mission report on how he had obtained the information. M was livid, placing 003 on suspension pending an internal inquiry, and James even more so, judging from the way his partner had tried to murder the other double-o agent upon discovering what had happened._

_Q had not been at MI6 when that incident happened. He had been standing in their kitchen, staring at the wall as he held a mug of tea, which he didn’t drink from. By the time James had been forced back to their flat, the tea was cold and Q was feeling distinctly hollow. He had let James be angry, had allowed James to lead him to bed, had permitted James to take care of the things that he felt simply unable to do. He’d spared a moment to wonder if he was still in shock, unable to accept what had happened, before deciding that it didn’t really matter anyway._

* * *

“Don’t try to make this about something else. You offered Q up to that man, knowing full well that he would be _raped_.”

“You think that it was easy? You think I didn’t consider any other options? It was the only way, 007.”

“You should have found another way. That is part of _your_ job too.”

“Like what? You’ve read the file. You’ve watched the tapes, listened to the audio, gone over all the intel. We were too late to stop the sale, and the planned attack was only a few hours away. Dupont was our only lead to finding out where the chemicals were, and both he and his buyers were already suspicious that we were not who we said we were. If I hadn’t done what I did, that attack would have happened, Dupont would have figured out who we were, and Q, those civilians, and myself would all be dead. _Tell me what I could have done differently_.”

Dead silence.

“You know what I’m saying is true. It was the only way. You think I wanted things to go down the way they did? You think I wanted to put the quartermaster in that position? I had to get Dupont out of the way, without raising suspicion and without the risk that he would alert the buyer that we were onto them. The situation called for it, I made the call, and I stand by it.”

* * *

_“Do you understand?” 003 had asked him as they had made their way back to London._

_Q had stared at him. He knew that what the agent was asking for wasn’t his understanding, but for forgiveness. 003 was asking for forgiveness for something that he would never apologize for because he didn’t think that what he had done was wrong. And perhaps that was true. Q had known the risks when they had been given the mission brief (when he had joined MI6), had known what was at stake if they failed, had known what he would be required to do if necessary._

_But true or not, that didn’t mean he had to participate in the farce of letting 003 think that what had happened was acceptable. And so he had turned away and closed his eyes, trying not to lose himself in the suffocating memories of an unfamiliar body pressed against his, and failing miserably at that._

* * *

“You should have at least told him.”

“There was no time or opportunity to do so. And I couldn’t take the risk.”

“You mean you couldn’t take the risk that he would say no.”

“Yes, 007. I couldn’t take the risk that he would say no.”


	2. Chapter 2

The door opens.

There’s the shuffle of feet, a pause. The soft (familiar) sound of a gun being drawn and then a weary sigh. “I know you’re there so you might as well stop lurking in the shadows, 007.”

“003.”

A snort. “I would ask what you’re doing in my flat, but I don’t think I need to.”

“A two-month suspension and probation until you complete additional training. They let you off easy.”

“That was not my call. If you have a problem with it, you know where M and Tanner live.”

“They’re not the only ones who have something to account for.”

“Spare me the lectures. If what you’re looking for is an apology, you can just fuck off. I won’t apologize for a professional decision. I won’t apologize for doing what had to be done. I-”

The front of a shirt being grabbed, followed by the heavy blow of a punch and a body impacting the floor. “A professional decision? _A professional decision_? Is that the bullshit you tell yourself? You _knew_ this could happen. You set the stage for it. You _wanted_ it to happen.”

* * *

_“He’s watching you.”_

_Q let out a sharp breath, even as he forced himself to maintain the smile that was threatening to make his lips twitch from how unnatural it was. He was well-trained enough not to turn and look straight at the weapons merchant (assault weapons, heavy artillery, explosives, poisons – if it resulted in death, Dupont would procure it for you, and all at a reasonable rate), but he didn’t have to. He could feel eyes watching him, even more so now that 003 had pointed it out._

_Just as he was about to ask if 003 thought they had been compromised, if Dupont was preparing to expose them for who they were, the agent said, “Flirt with him.”_

_“What?” he hissed back, once he had overcome his shock._

_“It doesn’t have to be much. Laugh, smile, make him think you’re not a threat.”_

_“That is hardly appropriate-”_

_“_ Do it. _”_

_Q wasn’t one for play-acting but the urgency in 003’s voice brokered no room for disagreement. Besides, he wasn’t in much of a position to argue. The agents were the ones who were in the field, interacting with people and learning to read them so that they could react in a way best calculated to achieve mission success and survival prospects. It also wasn’t the time to challenge 003, not when they were surrounded by men and women who would not hesitate to make whatever remained of their short lives an utter misery if their true identities were found out._

_So he slowly turned, waiting until he caught Dupont’s eyes. He raised his glass in greeting, smiling softly (he didn’t like it, giving the Frenchman that little part of him that he had before reserved for James). Dupont’s languid grin made his skin crawl, but to his immense relief the Frenchman was forced to return his attentions to the exquisitely dressed lady trying to cut a deal for AK-47s._

_Q spent the rest of that evening with the inescapable feeling of being watched._

* * *

“Yes, I knew of Dupont’s attraction. Yes, I encouraged it.”

“And you didn’t think that it would be a problem, compromising Q like that?”

“You’re missing the point. We all do things that could be considered a threat to our personal safety, but we do it anyway if that is what it takes. Putting Q in that position was a risk, but a calculated one. If I didn’t think it could be useful, I wouldn’t have encouraged it. And why do you insist on rehashing this anyway? This is all in my mission report. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t have to.”

“You’re hiding now. You’re hiding what you did behind claims that it was necessary to the mission, that it was the only way. You’re letting M and Tanner defend your actions without taking responsibility for the consequences of what you did. Have you even _seen_ Q since the mission ended?”

“Would it have helped?”

“Perhaps it would have been a nice reminder to you that your decisions have human consequences, and make you consider your options a bit more thoroughly on your next mission.”

“Sounds like a sure-fire way of getting killed.”

A second punch, a head snapping back to hit the ground with a sickening impact.

* * *

_“You’re taking this situation remarkably well.”_

_It was Q’s third session with Davis, and it was going about as well as the last two. Q knew that the doctor was only trying to make sure that he wasn’t emotionally compromised and about to blow up MI6 or 003’s flat, but he was finding the entire experience tedious. He didn’t want to rehash again what had happened. He wanted to move on, but sometimes it seemed like they were waiting for some cliché psychological breakthrough where Q would talk about a traumatic childhood event or how much 003 reminded him of his first boyfriend. Or both._

_“If I cry, will it get you to clear me faster?”_

_“Do you want to cry?”_

_“No,” he replied flatly. He’d done enough of that already, although he supposed that if it was necessary, he could shed a few tears for the good doctor. He’d compromised enough of himself on the mission, after all; what was another acting session if that was what it took to get him back to work? Still, it was probably too late to go that route now, so he pointed out, “But based on your preferred line of questioning, it seems that my lack of visible trauma is making you uncomfortable.”_

_He regretted the words as soon as he said them, and even more so when Davis immediately latched onto the opening. “Visible trauma? Which would suggest there is-”_

_“Of course there is,” Q snapped, using his anger to cover for the fact that he wanted to physically recoil at just the memory of what happened, of unwanted hands on him, of someone always_ watching _him, of of_ of _. “I never claimed otherwise. But….”_

_“But?” Davis prompted, when Q’s voice trailed off into a long, uncomfortable silence._

_“But I have a job to do,” he said quietly._

_“Is it all about the job?”_

_“Isn’t everything?” he replied, but he was not able to take any satisfaction from the doctor’s inability to respond._

* * *

“You should have told him.”

A shaky, rattling laugh. “Back to this again?”

“Yes. You said during the inquiry that Q already knows what the job requires of him. But he should also have known what you were going to do. You would have told any other agent, to give them the chance to prepare themselves for what was going to happen, but you didn’t. You don’t just toss someone in the fire and expect him to cope. He might be the quartermaster but he doesn’t understand the way we do. No one does, no matter how often they are in our ears and see the consequences of what we choose. You should have goddamn _told_ him.”

“And if he’d said no?”

“Then you don’t know him at all. Like you said, Q understands just as much as we do what needs to be done. But at least he would have had the _choice_ , and it wouldn’t have escalated to the point it did.”

* * *

_“Lovely,” Dupont murmured as he stroked the line of Q’s jaw, fingers lingering where tear streaks marred his face. Q struggled to suppress the whimper of relief as the body on top of his shifted, allowing him to breathe more easily, but then Dupont was looking over at the two bodyguards and saying, “All yours.”_

_What? Q struggled to sit up but the hands were still holding him down, and the Frenchman shook his head ruefully. “I would have been content if it was just the two of us, but you put them through a lot of effort with your uncooperative attitude. They should be rewarded for their efforts, don’t you agree?_

_No._ No. _But the words were lost as Dupont laughed, kissing him sloppily even as the Frenchman got to his feet. Q had no opportunity to try anything, whether it was to break free or to bite down or to simply_ breathe _when one of the men got on top of him, heavy and even more unyielding than the last one._

_And then he was screaming, unable to work up the will to suppress his cries, and throughout it all he could still feel Dupont watching him hungrily._

* * *

“I regret that. I didn’t think it would come to that.”

“Like your regrets change anything.”

“Then why are you here? You seem so interested in knowing if I am sorry for what happened, but if it doesn’t change anything, why are you bothering?”

“You know exactly why.”

“I do. You’re here because you don’t want to go back to face him, to face the fact that if you were in my position, you would have bloody well done the same thing.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Well, you _should_ have. We can’t put our personal needs before the good of the people. The threat wasn’t theoretical; it was going to happen if I didn’t act. The only one who seems unable to accept it is _you_.”

A fist hit the floor, the intended target rolling away just in time. Every movement punctuated by labored breathing as muscles were forced into standing. “No. I let you have those first punches, Bond, but no more now. You want to press the matter, that’s fine, I’ll indulge you. But don’t even think that what you are doing here is helping the quartermaster in the slightest.”

* * *

_James was yelling again, his rage palpable even through the locked door of his office. Q didn’t even know who was the target of the man’s wrath – Tanner, most likely, since M had no reason to be in Q-branch. Even less so now, with 007 being a terror to everyone._

_Q probably should have gone out to stop him, but all he did was lower his head onto his desk. It was his first day back and he already wished he wasn’t here, but then when he had been at home all he had wished was to not be there either. He tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on his work, but it was hard to concentrate with James acting like that. He couldn’t hear the words, which was either better or worse (or both). He couldn’t really think at all._

_Maybe he should be pleased, that James was willing to stand up for him like this. But mostly, he just felt tired. It felt like he was spending every moment tip-toeing around the agent, trying not to do anything that might set off the man again. He had to keep everything to himself or the next thing they knew, James would be on suspension (or in prison, or on a suicide mission, or_ dead _) because he had tried to murder 003 again. He wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take, so he just put his arms over his head, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to block out everything around him._

_(Except that just made the feeling more intense, the feeling that the Frenchman was still watching him, even now.)_

* * *

“Go home, 007. You’re not doing anyone any good here.”

“You have no idea-”

“ _Leave_. Before I make you. And give me that, for fuck’s sake.”

A bottle, being grabbed from unresisting fingers. “This isn’t over, 003.”

A sharp, desperate laugh. “Don’t I know it already. Do we ever forget any of the people who we destroyed in the name of Queen and country? We just have to live with it, however we can. Which in my case means drinking myself into a stupor, so if you still want to kill me, come back then.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re back.” The words were quiet, like Q wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. He wasn’t the only one having such doubts.

“I am.” James put the keys down on the kitchen counter, the soft clink echoing through the silent flat. Under normal circumstances, the place would be humming with activity, between Q’s ridiculous computer setup and the music he liked to play while working. But Q hadn’t been working as of late, even after he had been cleared, and the flat was starting to feel the way it had before the younger man had moved in – sterile, empty, and hollow.

Q was becoming all those things as well. He didn’t bother replying, taking a sip of tea in a blatantly transparent attempt to avoid engaging in conversation. That was nothing new, having become their norm over the last three weeks, but abruptly, James couldn’t stand it.

“Two months,” he snarled, a fist slamming onto the counter. Q flinched at the sound, and James felt even more angry because he had promised himself that he would not lose his temper this time. Even James could tell that his anger accomplished nothing but to make Q more upset, although the younger man hid it well. But just seeing Q like this, with the carefully blank expression, knuckles turning white from their hard grip on his mug, posture tense and prepared to flee at a moment’s notice… James _hated_ it. He hated what 003 had done to Q, which made the joke of a punishment all the more galling. “ _Two months_. It’s not enough, what the hell was M thinking, handing out-”

“He wanted it to be longer.”

“-a slap on the wrist and-” The words cut off abruptly as James stared at Q, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You already knew.”

“Of course. They ran it by me before.”

“And you told them to _shorten_ it?” he demanded, barely able to believe what he was asking. That he had to ask at all.

Q shrugged, his reply practiced and mechanical. “003 is a highly valued agent. The country needs his services. I put my personal feelings aside for the sake of professionalism and the good-”

“Your _personal_ feelings?” James repeated, still incredulous. “Q, that bastard-”

“-of MI6, and you think I don’t already _know_ that?” With each word, Q’s voice rose, until he was practically shouting. “Despite what you and everyone else seems to think, I am not a child and am perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“No one is suggesting that you’re not capable-”

“Then let me do my damn job!” Q yelled. “No one stops you when you’re recovering from a bullet to the gut or after you’ve fucked someone for Queen and country, so why is this any different now?!”

The mug slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground and shattering. For a moment, they both just stared at the pieces, before Q finally processed what he had done. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, _shit_.”

“Q,” James moved towards him, but he was too far away to intervene in time as Q fell to his knees, reaching down to grab the broken ceramic with his bare hands.

“ _Fuck_.” Q drew back, staring at his shaking hands as pinpricks of blood began to well up where the shards had cut into his skin. He was still staring when James reached down to try and take hold of him, the action enough to snap Q out of his trance to shriek, “ _Let go of me_.”

James immediately backed off, giving Q space as the younger man shook, his breathing harsh. Q didn’t look up at him, just continued to gaze at the blood on his fingers as if he didn’t understand why this was happening.

“What would you have done?” The question was soft and broken, each syllable an agony to itself. “If you were in 003’s position, what would you have done?”

“I would have found another way.”

Q moaned, shaking his head as his hands hovered over the pieces of his mug. “No, no, no, don’t say that, don’t… _no_. 003, he… _we_ needed a distraction. Needed to draw Dupont out. Maybe we could have been direct and just tortured him, but if it didn’t work? The buyers were so goddamn _paranoid_ , always in constant communication with him. If they had suspected for a second that he was compromised, they would have scrapped their plans and dumped the chemicals wherever they could achieve maximum casualties. Maybe less effective but all those people would still have died.”

“Q....”

“There was no other way,” Q continued dully. “It was necessary. It had to be necessary. It had to. Otherwise, what was the point? What was the point of going through all of that if it _wasn’t necessary_?” Q finally looked up, his eyes desperate even if his tone was still so empty. “What would you have done? If I had said no. What would-?”

“You wouldn’t have said no.”

“You don’t know that. How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I know you,” James replied quietly. “You’re the person who holds it together because you think you have to, the one who puts professional needs before personal feelings. You’re the one who asks M to shorten a suspension because an agent is needed, no matter how much it kills you to do so. I know _you_ , Q.”

Q laughed, the sound hysterical and one step away from going completely off the edge. “You say those things, James, but if that’s the case, why can’t I get past this already? I did what I was supposed to do, what any of you would have done. I shouldn’t feel this way anymore, shouldn’t be so damn we-”

“You’re not weak,” James cut off before Q could even finish the word. He probably wasn’t supposed to interrupt, but he couldn’t stand by and let Q blame himself for being _human_. “Don’t even think such a thing. What happened wasn’t right, wasn’t… it’s just not the same, Q.”

Q shook his head again, clearly not understanding why James was insisting on such a fine distinction. “How? We all know what is required of us.”

“It’s different because he didn’t give you a _choice_.”

“I made my choice,” Q replied. “I made my choice when I joined MI6. Just because I’m not a field agent doesn’t mean I don’t know that we will do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

“No,” James said firmly, getting to his knees as well. He made no effort to reach for Q, content for them to simply be on the same level, face-to-face. “It’s not the same. What happened to you, it’s never easy. It’s not easy to ask someone to do, and it’s not easy to go through. But you could have been prepared for it. You weren’t. You weren’t given the opportunity to be prepared. 003 was supposed to protect you, but instead of giving you the necessary information, he put you in a situation where he knew you would be deeply hurt. It doesn’t matter if it was necessary or not; he should have told you so that you knew what was coming. With other agents, he might have been able to get away with not saying anything because we’re trained for it. But you aren’t.”

Q started to protest, but James shook his head. “I’m not saying that you wouldn’t go to the same lengths as any of us. It just means that you weren’t ready for what was going to happen. And the only reason why you weren’t was because he didn’t trust you to do what had to be done. 003 didn’t trust you enough to give you the choice you should have had, and you paid for that mistake, not him.”

Silence. Q just stared at him, his expression so carefully blank that James wasn’t sure if he’d even heard, let alone understood what had been said. But then, finally, Q leaned towards him, almost like he was letting himself fall, and James had to quickly shuffle closer to meet his partner in time. Ceramic bit into his trousers but he didn’t care. Instead, he just grasped Q closer, saying nothing.

Q had spent all of this time trying to hold himself together, feeling like he didn’t have the right to fall apart despite everything he had gone through. He’d done everything he felt necessary given his position, but done nothing for himself, refusing to confront his own emotions in fear that it would be a distraction to his professional obligations.

James had made it no better. Watching Q keep everything bottled in, like what had happened did not matter, had made him angry. But he had to stop being angry, stop looking for revenge, stop trying to do all those things a part of him thought that Q should be doing, but that he had been doing instead because the younger man clearly did not want to.

For too long, they’ve both been pushing themselves, trying to be something that they were not because that was what they thought they were supposed to be. But what they really needed was a moment to simply _be_ , unburdened by all expectations.

"I would have done it," Q murmured. "I would never ask any of you to do something that I wouldn't do myself."

"I know. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Q,” James said quietly. “You’ve proven yourself enough times already, even before this. 003 should have trusted you, just like you trust all of us to do what has to be done.”

Q nodded vaguely, eyes shutting tightly. His next words were a whisper, like he didn't want to admit what he was saying. "Knowing that doesn't make any of this better, James."

James didn't reply. He didn't know what he could say, if anything. The only thing he could do was let Q curl up in his arms, the younger man's head resting on his chest. Q was still trembling slightly, his breathing stuttering and fast, but as James held onto him, it finally began to even out until finally, eventually, their breathing matched each other's pace for pace.

It was all he could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks must go out to LadyChef and the anons who requested a continuation to this story when I first posted on Tumblr, since I had planned for this to be a one-shot. As a result, I was able to explore a couple more themes that I hadn’t anticipated in the first part, and I think the story is better off as a result of it.
> 
> If you’re interested in my shorter ficlets, deleted scenes, and babbling about writing (or lack thereof), I can be found at http://pikachumaniac.tumblr.com/.


End file.
